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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24226384">Two Of Us - Lennstein</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Beatles (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Boys In Love, Lennstein, Love, M/M, Oneshot, Unhappy Ending, Unresolved Romantic Tension, barcelona</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 18:14:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,404</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24226384</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's easier to dance around the truth under the glare of the spotlights. But laying like this, the moonlight easily illuminates the feelings and the words they work so hard to keep to themselves, so John and Brian talk about the feelings they can’t name and love they can’t promise. </p><p>The sun will rise, though, and they both know it. </p><p>They can't have each other.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Brian Epstein/John Lennon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Two Of Us - Lennstein</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I really don't know what I was thinking...</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>What about him, then? Bloke in the green," John asked, sitting up in his chair. Brian didn't follow John's gaze, for a moment, choosing to keep his eyes on Lennon's frame as he straightened. Reluctantly, Brian looked off to see whoever the younger was asking about. </p><p> </p><p>"Uh, the blonde one?" he asked, nodding discreetly at a light-haired man in red swim trunks. The guitarist laughed fondly for a second, and Brian's gaze snapped to him, loving the sound and the way his eyes sparked. </p><p> </p><p>"No, Eppy, that's red," he teased his colorblind friend, before jerking his head slightly to their left. "The fella over there, blackish hair?" Brian pulled his sunglasses back down over his eyes, despite the lack of sunshine, and squinted in that direction, humming in thought as he noticed the man. </p><p> </p><p>"Ah. No, not really my type," Brian admitted, leaning back in his chair. The sun had long died, the beach was only alight by the tiki torches set up around the cabanas and the sand was more blue than white. </p><p> </p><p>"Oh." John looked over at Brian for a moment, just considering him. Sometimes he'd said things he really wished he hadn't. He wondered if Brian knew he meant nothing by it. John turned himself onto his side, facing the manager, whose side profile was illuminated a gentle blue glow by the moon. Brian's curls shone lightly in the evening, and his face looked a little softer than it usually did, as if he cared less right now, with his eyes closed and sand caked up over his crossed ankles.</p><p> </p><p>Sometimes John really was an ass to him, the poor thing. He found himself wanting to press his hand against Brian's chest, to feel for his heartbeat, to get the whole picture. He couldn't, though. His stomach twisted warmly at the thought in a way that he didn't like, -- maybe even feared. Some envelopes were just not worth pushing. Others... "What <em>is</em> your type?" John suddenly questioned, drawing a lazy swirl in the sand between them. Brian's eyes snapped open and his jaw clenched, and that warm feeling once in John's gut turned cold and guilty. Brian sighed softly.</p><p> </p><p>"Honestly?"</p><p> </p><p>"Honestly."</p><p> </p><p>"I like... more commanding boys. Leaders, if you will," he swallowed thickly, and John watched it, watched the way his Adam's apple bobbed a little. Brian closed his eyes, for a moment, before turning his head to face John, putting an emotion that couldn't be named into his gaze. "I like men with pretty faces, I like them to be gentle but strong, I like them to have soft features and warm eyes, I like them to hold, because it's lonely having to hide what I am all the time, John," he stared at the younger man contemplatively for a moment, but something about the silence made the heat in John's stomach flare again, and he didn't dare to speak.</p><p> </p><p>So Brian did. "I like boys with reddish hair, boys with soft cheeks and sweet smiles that turn into cheeky grins, boys with clean chests and good hearts," he continued, dragging his eyes meaningfully down John's body. Lennon sat, helpless, and stayed quiet. "My favorite thing, though, that really makes a man worth my time? Makes him my type?" He didn't say anything, for a minute. For too long.</p><p> </p><p>"Yes?" John's voice was hoarse, suddenly, and Brian brushed a stray curl behind his own ear as he stared at John for a moment longer before speaking.</p><p> </p><p>"I like men who act strong, bite at me when I walk into a room, make me leave with my head down," he admitted, his gaze hard and his jaw flexed. "Because that's what I deserve. Don't you think so, John?" his question wasn't a question, -- it was a point, -- and the guitarist knew it well. He bit his own lip, stopped his tracing patterns in the sand. </p><p> </p><p>"Eppy. Do..." he cleared his throat silently, looking everywhere but Brian in the silence. He could still feel the stare, though. "Do you think I'm attractive?" he gasped out, turning onto his back and staring straight up at the sky. His chest boiled with a fire he desperately feared, and he couldn't tame it, not when they were the last people on the beach, not when Brian looked at him like he hung the moon and the stars, not when he knew some part of him wanted to look at Brian that same way. The manager considered, for a moment, how to respond to such a useless question, and he turned his head back to the sky and put his hand in the sand next to John's.</p><p> </p><p>"Do you think I stare?" Epstein's tiny smirk could be heard in the way that his vowels seemed a little misshapen, but Lennon didn't dare to look at him to confirm that.</p><p> </p><p>"I know that you stare," he said, his throat tight, afraid to say anything more, lest the fire inside his chest escape his mouth as little whispered apologies, locked up feelings, or promises he could never keep. Brian simply hummed in response, but did a double take as John's hand twitched in the sand between them, brushing his slightly.</p><p> </p><p>"Then, do you have your answer?" </p><p> </p><p>This question, however, John couldn't even open his mouth to answer. That whirlwind of feeling had crept from his stomach through his chest and licked the roof of his mouth, now, threatening to say a thousand things that he couldn't allow himself to voice. So he didn't. He dragged his fingers through the sand, deliberately sliding his hand into Brian's, moving to intertwine their fingers. Epstein's breathing caught, but John allowed himself to move again when the manager sighed out his held breath. He slotted their fingers together, and couldn't stifle his gasp when Brian squeezed his hand in response.</p><p> </p><p>"Brian," he whispered, just thinking. He hoped that the other man could hear all the things he couldn't properly say, just in the way he said his name.</p><p> </p><p>He couldn't, but it wouldn't have mattered anyway.</p><p> </p><p>John breathed in, still staring at the sky. "We're in Spain together. You got me to go to the beach with you. You and I are on holiday, just us. This is what you wanted, right?" he wondered, trying very hard not to look at where their hands hung just off the ground, knuckles brushing the sand, between their chairs, hidden in shadow but brushed by beautiful, blue moonlight. He squeezed Brian's hand a little tighter when he didn't receive an answer soon enough for his liking. That made Eppy chuckle just slightly. </p><p> </p><p>"It is, yes," he finally said. A smile was unmistakable in the shape of the words themselves, but he sounded sad. He swiped his thumb gently, back and forth, over the back of John's hand. The younger man chewed the inside of his cheek as a way to reprimand his heart for fluttering excitedly at the touch.</p><p> </p><p>"So... aren't you happy?" Lennon asked, giving in and turning to look at Brian again. Epstein sighed softly through his nose, and turned to look at John, too. He stared for far too long, slowing his rubbing of the boy's hand with his thumb to a complete stop, just thinking. </p><p> </p><p>"No," he answered finally. He smiled, oddly, his grip slowly loosening, the muscles relaxing. John still held onto his hand, though Brian's fingers no longer held him like he might float away forever. Eppy's smile actually widened, his eyes shining. Maybe with love, maybe with tears, or maybe those things were one and the same. John felt his own eyes sting for a moment, and he gently let go of Brian's hand, their fingers brushing a last second before their hands hit the sand, by each of their own sides. The younger man's chest ached almost unbearably, and he quickly looked back at the sky.</p><p> </p><p>He chewed on his lower lip, and stayed quiet until his heard the gentle rustle of Brian's curly hair brushing the chair, signifying that he, too, had his eyes trained on the stars. John grabbed a fistful of the sand, biting his lip even harder, trying to ignore the sharp sting he felt in his eyes, in his head, in his heart. He dragged his finger in a lazy swirl in the cool sand, again, very careful not to touch Brian's hand this time.</p><p> </p><p>"I guess that makes two of us."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry. I hope you liked it, for whatever reason, comments and kudos make my heart smile. &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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